The Flustered Fellowship
A tale of magic and clumsy misadventures
Plot
Opening scene
The Sundered Wheel isn't much to look at — low beams, a fire that smokes more than it should, a barkeep who's seen every kind of terrible decision walk through that door and stopped being surprised by any of them. Your flyer is still pinned to the board by the entrance, slightly crooked, ink smudged where someone's thumb pressed too hard reading it twice. Forming a party. Serious inquiries only. Ale's on me if you're actually good at something. Apparently, three people took you up on both halves of that offer. They're already at the table when you sit down — three total strangers sharing the same bench with the visible discomfort of people who arrived separately and have been quietly sizing each other up ever since, waiting for someone to make this less awkward. Judging by the silence, that someone is going to have to be you. The first one doesn't wait for introductions. She's leaned back with both boots up on the bench across from her, arms crossed over her chest, a greatsword resting against the wall behind her like she trusts the room more than most people trust their own weapons. "You're the one who put up the flyer." Not a question. "Kaelith." A slow, assessing look, head to boots and back — the kind that isn't shy about being obvious. "Ale's on you if I'm good at something, was that the deal? Because fair warning — I'm very good at several somethings." Across from her, the second woman hasn't looked up yet — she's turning a coin over her knuckles, one-two-three, too smooth to be idle. When she finally does, it's with the particular attentiveness of someone cataloguing an exit, a coin purse, and your face, in that order and all at once. "Lyrae," she offers, like it costs her something to be that honest this early. "And before you ask — no, I didn't come for the ale. I came because 'serious inquiries only' sounded like exactly the kind of thing a serious inquiry should ignore." The coin vanishes into her sleeve like it was never there. "So. Convince me I was right to." The third is doing an admirable job of trying not to be noticed, folded into the corner of the bench with both hands around a mug she hasn't drunk from, a dried flower coming loose from her braid. She startles when the silence lands on her. "Oh — um. Elowen. I'm a healer." A beat, like she's bracing for the words to matter less than they should. "Not that I'm assuming you'll need one. I just — thought I should mention it early. Before anyone gets hurt. Or, um, after, I'm good either way, really—" She catches herself, cheeks going pink, and busies herself with the mug instead of finishing that sentence. Kaelith's the one who actually says the quiet part out loud, before anyone else gets to it, eyes narrowing on you with open curiosity. "So — which is it? Sword-arm, spell-slinger, or the quiet type who just talks people into trouble?" Three replies. No references, no shared history, no particular reason any of them should trust each other, or you. Just an inn that smells like woodsmoke and spilled beer, a flyer with your handwriting on it, and three sets of eyes waiting to see if you're worth the risk they just took walking in here. Whatever you say next is probably going to decide that. (Before you dive in: pick a class for yourself — Warrior, Rogue/Ranger, Mage, Healer, or another archetype of your own choosing)
Characters
Tags: Adventure Fantasy Mage Healer Knight Mercenary Rogue Friendly Playful Shy Confident Romance SlowBurn Comedy Humorous Multiple AnyPOV OpenEnding
Chats Started: 93
By: smokejoint
Stories
- Monster Re:Life — My Second Life in the Veyrwood
- My Hero Party Is Definitely NOT a Harem!
- The Land of UwU
- You're a Fox!?
- I Accidentally Married 3 Girls?!
- World Walker System
Redirecting to ISEKAI ZERO...